


A Merry Little Christmas

by FakePlastikTrees



Category: Damages
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-14
Updated: 2012-05-14
Packaged: 2017-11-05 08:34:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/404406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FakePlastikTrees/pseuds/FakePlastikTrees
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hewes & Associates. The Christmas party. M is for mistletoe. Ellen is an angry, jealous drunk.  </p>
            </blockquote>





	A Merry Little Christmas

**Author's Note:**

> I felt a little robbed of Christmas moments between our ladies during season 4, so I wrote this. No real spoilers. Tom is in here.

 

You feel like an idiot. You keep sulking further and further into obscurity as the party progresses and you're pretty sure it has a little to do with the alcohol you're consuming and a lot to do with the stupid mistletoe hanging from every god damn doorway on the floor. You've steered away for the most part. A couple of innocent kisses have been dropped here and there, but nothing to write home about. 

 

Patty, on the other hand.

 

_Fucking Patty._  

 

It seems as though every employee with a dick wants a piece and their boss has enough liquor in her to allow more than the appropriate amount of kisses. You're pretty sure there's a law somewhere. There's got to be some fucking decorum in these cases. People have spouses and families, and a stupid green plant isn't going to make it okay to cheat. 

 

Not that Patty's cheating or anything because her stupid husband was stupid enough to cheat, for real, and she's now single. Single and kissing everyone within a ten mile radius. _Fucking Patty_.

 

She's kissed only three people, but as you leave your half empty bottle of beer on the nearest table, in favor of a gin and tonic you pour yourself, you glare at Tom. _Fuck Tom_. Everyone knows he’s in love with Patty. Everyone except for himself, it appears. He catches Patty around the waist and pulls her in for a kiss she happily obliges to after he's pointed out the STUPID green plant above their heads. And hasn't he kissed her already? Twice? 

 

You pace to the right. You figure that if you move around the room once in a while, people won't talk to you, but you'll also avoid looking like  crazy stalker. Still, it's easy to follow the blonde around the crowded party. It's loud, and there's music and Patty is laughing. You've always loved her laugh but tonight, you hate it. You're so intent on hating her, that you don't care much about respect and quickly begin to objectify her from afar. 

 

Her shirt is cut low, and you can see her cleavage. Bitch. She's wearing that white skirt with that black line down the back. You complimented her on it this morning. That fucking bitch. 

 

You feel two ounces more drunk and you know you shouldn't have mixed. Liquor before beer, you're in the clear, beer before liquor...you've never been sicker. Fuck. You've been living by this rule since high school and now you've broken it because Patty keeps swapping spit with...Tom? Again? Really? God damn it. Someone walks by with a tray of tequila shots and you swiftly grab one, knocking it back and grimacing just a little at the strange switch of beverage. Your taste buds were not ready and neither was your liver.

 

You're going to be paying for this in the morning. 

 

Fucking Patty. 

 

It's not that you have any right to claim her. She can do what she pleases. She's her own woman. Even when she was married, she was her own woman. But you'd think casual sex offered some sort of right. She could at least have the decency to wait until after you leave to start the group sex. 

 

Okay, it's not exactly group sex, but she can't possibly be that drunk. 

 

But you are. You falter a little in your step and trip on your feet. Thankfully, there's a wall and you manage to make it look like you meant to lean against it the whole time. You hate this stupid fucking party. Everyone is drunk and sloppy. Except Patty, of course, who manages to look just about perfect even after more than a  few drinks. God damn her. 

 

You push yourself off the wall that's keeping you up, and very slowly, manage to walk again. You can't believe this is your life. She isn't even your girlfriend, but casual sex with other people doesn't offer as much pleasure as it should or used to. You live for the occasional unplanned encounter with Patty. Of course, with this woman, everything is planned. You are positive that even that one time in the elevator was planned days ahead.

 

"Fuck Patty--" You mumble under your breath. Someone turns in your direction and you smile. It works. They look away.

 

You watch her lick her lips after taking a tiny sip of her drink and you think of her going down on you in her kitchen last week. And just like that, you're wet. Just as quickly as it happens when she's trying to get you there. Not that she has to do much. You grab another beer from a passing waiter and knock a long swig back. It's almost aggressive and the bottle clinks against your teeth.

 

She's talking about something interesting, something she's absolutely engrossed in. Her features are serious and pointed, her hand gestures are on full blast and when she waves her hand in the air in a gentle flow, you think of her fingers, and the way they made you come the same night as the kitchen, on her bed. You cursed up at the ceiling and pushed your hand against her headboard as she pushed into you with no mercy. 

 

Your knees almost give out and you exhale slowly as you wonder if anyone will notice you slipping away into your office to take care of the situation in your pants. 

 

Somewhere in your mental strategizing to sneak away, Patty's begun watching you. You turn back in her direction and she's been left alone for the first time all night.

 

She smiles and it's like she knows. Like she knows that you've been eye fucking her all night. Her shoulders shake just slightly in a way that tells you she’s just chuckled. Barely. But still. She definitely knows. 

Your eyes narrow in silent disapproval and just like that, her attention is pulled away from you by a balding man whose name you don’t really remember right now.

You inhale deeply through your nose and begin to move around the room, avoiding crossing through the center to sneak up behind her. 

You squeeze through people and miss one of the million mistletoe by an inch. You slap away a floating balloon that’s so rudely in your way and finally come up behind her. You touch her lower back just briefly, and as you lean over her shoulder, you notice how good she smells. Softly, you ask the entire crowd surrounding her with a smile, “I’m sorry to interrupt. Patty, can I speak to you?” Sweet as pie, “It will only take a second.” 

She turns her chin in your direction and your lips almost touch, “Sure, Ellen.” No one notices. “Excuse us.” 

It’s not long before she’s leading the way and you’re not quite sure how that happens, but you follow like the little bitch you are. Patty Hewes’s little bitch. Fucking Patty. She leaves the door to her office wide open after she walks inside and when you close it behind you, she’s leaning back against her desk, both hands perched on the edge of it as she throws that Cheshire cat grin at you. 

“What’s wrong, Ellen?” She asks.

 

You shake your head and smile as you lock the door, then lunge forward, “Fuck you, Patty.” 

END

 

   


End file.
